St. Paul daily globe. [volume] (Saint Paul, Minn.) 1884-1896, 1887-12-25

then quaint old town of nkley, were
seen encamped nearly a hundred Gyp
sizes.
What scene of animation was there
Groups of busy Gypsies pushed on the
preparations for departure for that won
derful land beyond the sea which had
become the Gypsy's. as well as the pool
of England's, haven and heaven. Greet,
ing and parting were continuous
Trailing over the hills and into the val
leys came fresh acceSSiOnS, while Other
bands took sad departure. Simple folk
from far about brought token and gift,
and received gift and token. Flushed
faces and moiStened eyes told Of that in
honest hearts which unSkilled lips re-
fused to utter. Old spae-wiveS that had
crooned by camp-ires for quarter of a
century grew gaTrulOuS. Gray-haired
men, seeming younger by years, and
touched by the Witch-wand of hope, saw
visions of rest beyond the deep. Strong
men saw gain and competence. Moth
erS smiled on growing, taWny babes, in
happy expectancy. Youths dreamed of
adventure: maidenS of conquest.
But one heart in that pretty Wharfe-
side camp was well nigh broken. This
was Andrews. He was Gypsy lad, or
phaned, poor: pOverty-stickenn aWken
tinker, a poor tinker, too, and desplsed,
for he was dreamer; had shown signs
of rhymes, and was, therefore, with
these people an Outcast.
Indeed, how great all OutcaSt when an
outcaSt of OutcaStS!
He had ''got schooling" somewhere
tsgot notions from some ShiftleSS mas
ter his Gypsy brethren said; and it all
rested upon him as little less than a
curse, save with a single soul in York
shire. MiZella loved him: loved him
for that something in the lad which,
to Just this one. deified him.
MiZella was the pet of the Yorkshire
tribe. She was but dainty mite of a
thing yet: but so full of jest and wit
and merriment, that her presence had
come intoa thousand peasant lives and
left it in an ideal dream there. How
many had already come wOOing none
knew. The sprite had sent them all
away, no longer her lovers; simply her
valiant knights of honor. Each factory,
or hamlet, for halfhundred miles held
a discarded lover, but always housed a
friend. Well was MiZella guarded by
keen eyes and strong arms: but she was
a GypSy that could Out-GypSy them all
When the camp was doing at high
noon by murmurOuS streams: when II
sober moon and twinkling stars; then
MiZella and Andrew, i'll trYSt, child
lovers as they were, safe from curious
eyes. rested side by side, while he
taught her TO read; to know the better
things he knew; TO love the things he
loved: or repeated to her his simple
rhymes, telling her they were the work
of another: and MiZella wondered. and
loved the deSpiSed Nawken.
These were rare moments. There is
one God, one Nature, one Love. Even
GypSieS may reach to touch of all theil
infinite tenderness.
"Mizella! Oh, MiZella"
In the midst of the unwOnted excite
ment of the morning, the pet and pride
of the camp had disappeared.
"Mizella!' and ''Oh, Mi-Zel-la!" rang
out Shrilly from spae-Wife to chauvie
Child, and was taken up and repeated
by youth and maiden everywhere.
Ivy, N ware m hever is the racklie
dear little girD?" sang out old below
ing Bob Stanley" the grinder, the buff
foOn, the merry father-heart of every boy
and girl in the band, as he clustered and
hurried here and there, and, now as
ever, clustered and hurried only.
Over there by huge tree, where
some one had given it a Spiteful kick
lay Andrews battered wheel, his
thinker" tools scattered about in wild
disorder Andrew was also missing.
"Where was the daft NaWken, An
drew"
''And. "where was Mizella. racklie?'
The thrOstles, building their nests il
the hedge that swept down from the
highway until it touched the Wharft
below, could have answered. ThrOStlt
- n
as, in that hedge, with his arm around
MiZella. the poor, deSpiSed gypsy sang
to his love soon to be torn from him;
and never so listened thrOStle to wOoing
throStle'S song, as listened MiZella thai
April morning to her lovers song, al
needless of the anxious calling from the
camp of:
'tMizella, racklie! Oh, Mizella."
White and trembling, Andrew heard
but held her.
Nothing to give, my dearie; nothing
but this to give you"
SAM wat is hit, Andrew"
"Some lineS-Ive made tO-youw
"W'at!-'n' made all by YOURSELF
'n' for me?" Then she kissed him i'm
petuously, innocently. "Read 'em, An
drew. Oh, do, do! I'll allus keep 'em
alluS!"
In voice which struggled for mastery
over big sobs of delight, the Gypsy lac
began, while MiZella, her great eye:
dancing with greedy pleasure, nestled
her bright, warm face close, close to his
own, while her long, glossy hair sweep
over his shoulders and breast. Then
all Impotence, she interrupted him
and, pushing her face down near The
crumpled paper, spelled out the title
which he had in simple fashion orna
mented with rudely-drawn CupidS, dove:
and flowers-but all triumph o.
patient love and toll: "S-A-Y-E THU
SWEETEST KISS FOR MEL"
She kissed him again and again.
Then these words by the lad:
Long we've wandered. darling, wandered
Heath and moor and highway Ger;
Now we part; here to wander;
Thou to seek far-off shore,
Out beyond the oceans roar.
Darling, by our troth-plight given,
Darling, by thy hope of heaven,
Oh, be true as l TO thee;
Save the sweetest kiss for me!
''MiZella, rackliei oh MiZella!" came
in anxious, QuerulOuS, even threaten
ing, tones from the camp.
Sweetly the thrOstleS sang: softly thu
waters of the Wharfe flowed onward t
the sea: silently and heart to heart thu
child-lOVerS listened and loved.
''Oh, Andrew, dearier' came the CRY
of boundless compassion out of the sim
pie girls heart, maybe you bes N
good with tina wheel, as all says; bu
you bes mighty in your 'ead!' and sh'
clasped his face with her dimpled hands
held it at arms length, and looked glOat
ingly into the lads proud eyes. Thel
after this feast, she passed her finger
earessingly through and through hi
hair for a little time and then saiC
tenderly:
Poor, poor Andrewr' many times
and, as though mOther-heart spoke
Poor. poor bOyi" and then of a suddel
fell a-feasting on the bit of paper, ant
begged him to read again:
Days will pass with long hours weary;
Nights all sleepless, Starless grow:
And thy Nawken lover, dearie,
All the pain of waiting know
Waiting, longing, with their woel
Darling by onr trOtl- pliSht given.